Criminal
by Missy Jade
Summary: [Jabe]Babe lies and she makes mistakes that she can't take back and, in the end, she still is enough of a naïve woman in love to hope that she can be forgiven... [Complete]


_**Criminal**_

_I've been a bad, bad girl_

_I've been careless with a delicate man_

_And it's a sad, sad world_

_When a girl will break a boy_

_Just because she can_

_Don't you tell me to deny it_

_I've done wrong and I want to_

_Suffer for my sins_

_I've come to you 'cause I need_

_Guidance to be true_

_And I just don't know where I can begin_

He didn't stay, but had I really been stupid enough to think he might want to? Had I really thought that he might? If I had… Jesus, I'm an idiot. Thinking that, after all was said and done, after the heat and the force wore off, he would stay long enough to look at me. If I'm honest with myself, which, hello, I'm not very good at really, I'd admit that I didn't do anything to help him get the idea that I wanted him to.

When he'd begun trying to pull away from me, take that warmth away, I'd done pretty much the worst thing I could have done… I'd rolled over, pulled the pillow over my head and refused to do anything until the door closed. Yeah, great job, Arabella, make him think you don't want him.

My reaction after he was gone was not pretty. I lost my fucking mind, ran around the room, trashing it, unable to do anything but tear things apart. Apparently I tore too hard because two of my nails are broken and I had to dig a piece of the glass from the bathroom mirror from my palm. My shirt is ruined because of it; the blue fabric permanently scarred with the red marks from where I had stopped the bleeding.

I think it fits, the way it looks, how it looks spread out on the counter; it's permanent, like him on me… or is that me on him? I think that, when it comes down to it, really down to it, he's more addicted to me than I am to him. Or is that just wishful thinking? Maybe I'm just so fucked up that I don't know how he works anymore.

But I do know how he works, inside and out; my problem is, I don't pay attention to how well I know him. I didn't when I was married to him and now, later, I didn't when I fucked him a while ago… which is why I pulled a 'go away' when it came to my part at trying to fix this.

_What I need is a good defense_

'_Cause I'm feeling like a criminal_

_And I need to be redeemed_

_To the one I've sinned against_

_Because he's all I ever knew of love_

You know what, I think that's it… I think I'm the problem when it comes to this… thing; he keeps holding out his hands, offering up little gifts as olive branches. And what do I do? Well, brilliant, heartless bitch that I am, I take that inch he gives and use it to make him hurt even more.

It's so fucking destructive and I'm fighting my urge to go find something, anything to ease up on this ache. I always thought it sounded corny, that whole 'my body aches for him' crud, but, right now, my body does. And not just for the sex, because, hey, I'm pretty satisfied when it comes to that department… especially right now.

No, we were never lacking in that department, and I've never been ashamed to admit it. Fuck, I can't remember how many times I had the wild and crazy urge to run around Pine Valley, bragging about my hubby's skills in the bed department… except, it's more than just the sex, although it's not like it's only the sex…

We were always electric; how many times did he manages to get me all excited with a few words, and, hey, we always had fun in elevators? I can barely get on an elevator these days without blushing like a fool, because, hey, memories can do quite a bit to a healthy young woman's sex drive, even when the object of those memories is on the other side of the town… it's so fucking embarrassing when that happens in public, all those memories… ah, fuck.

_Heaven help me for the way I am_

_Save me from these evil deeds_

_Before I get them done_

_I know tomorrow brings the consequences_

_At hand_

_But I keep livin' this day like_

_The next will never come_

I never should have followed him into his hotel room, to 'save' Amanda. Yeah, like I really give a rat's ass about that little tramp… all I know is that if she ever touches him, I'll strangle the little bitch. She'll probably give him something, although, wow, aren't I just the Queen of Hypocrisy?

The fact that I didn't give him something when we were married is a blessed sigh of relief for me, because, god, I've done enough to him… the last thing he needs from me is an extra special surprise.

Jesus, I should have just stayed away but I hadn't… it's not like he's mine anymore right? Plus, hey, I have no doubt that Amanda can make him happy when it comes to bed hopping, but, see, just the thought of her touching him… and, really, can she ever know him like I do?

No, she'll never realize how much he likes the feel of a hand rubbing his forearm, especially where his elbow bends; he loves that, it'll calm him no matter how upset he is. His muscles will relax, his head will hang forward and those pretty eyes of his will close a bit… I never should have touched his arm.

It was my first instinct when he lost it, raging at me, screaming. I reached out, went to do what I always used to do, my fingers found his arm… shit. Shit, shit, shit… I know better than to touch him, knew better than to let myself touch him.

JR has spent a lifetime trying to control his emotions, a life of fighting to keep himself in one piece because god knows nobody else gives a damn, right? Not even me, even though, in so many ways, I'd gladly give my life for his. I'd die for him… but he's already died from me so what's the point?

_Oh, help me but don't tell me_

_To deny it_

_I've got to cleanse myself_

_Of all these lies till I'm good_

_Enough for him_

_I've got a lot to lose and I'm_

_Bettin' high_

_So I'm beggin' you before it ends_

_Just tell me where to begin_

Everything after that is… it's just… I don't know, completely, how we got our clothes off but we did and there was… it was us, how we used to be, just us, untouched, in those few minutes, by our large piles of mental shit… just me and him and all the things we do to each other… for each other.

Later, when that… bitch came by, it was easy enough for him to shoo her away and, with me covered up, he'd lifted up my one uncovered foot and shook it, laughing at her, commenting how his secretary was better than her. And she'd run out, screaming all the way to her car about how he'd spend his life wishing he'd taken his chance when he'd had it.

But he doesn't want her, not the way he wants me… he has her because she's around, because he wants those few moments of nothing more than he hates her and her filth. He wants me, more than life itself, more than anything else in the world. These days, I think, he's only himself when he's inside me.

_What I need is a good defense_

'_Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal_

_And I need to be redeemed_

_To the one I've sinned against_

_Because he's all I ever knew of love_

After that, after I heard her words—_"I thought you enjoyed it. We had fun… didn't we?"_—god, how dare she! How dare she touch him? Put her hands on him! She has no idea who he is, damn it! She's too stupid to ever figure out how he likes to lay after sex… how he likes to eat his eggs.

Huh, bet she never had his eggs… he makes great eggs, makes them with cheese and I don't mean that he just lays a piece of cheese on the finished eggs… no, he puts the cheese _in_ the eggs… oh, they were so good… too bad he doesn't make 'em for me anymore…

I lost it, dragged him down back into the bed, my fingers finding the opening of his jeans and he'd refused to let me, and rolled me and… what did I think? I could screw away the fact that she had gotten her hands on him? I think so, but I'm not so sure. My mind was…

It was like this haze, a slow burn of red across my vision, and, by the time the fury had been beaten back, the feel of him in me had replaced it… everything after that is just dulled, too powerful for my mind right now, after him… with him gone, I've gone cold inside… frozen until the next time I can get him alone…

_Let me know the way_

_Before there's Hell to pay_

_Give me room to lay the law and let me go_

_I've got to make a play_

_To make my lover stay_

_So what would an angel say_

_The devil wants to know_

Alone… but, no… not again, we agreed this time, between our first loss of control and our second, that this can't happen again… never again. Yes, last time… was supposed to _be_ the last time, but, god, I couldn't help it… my body reacts to him, and nothing I do can stop it…

I need to leave this hotel, leave and go home and pretend that nothing happened. But, see, I can't, not now and probably not for at least another hour. I can't, god, no matter how hard I try I can't move my legs and turn my attention from the tangled mess of the bed.

I look up at the click of the door opening… oh, fuck… he's staring at me, standing in the open doorway…

_What I need is a good defense_

'_Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal_

_And I need to be redeemed_

_To the one I've sinned against_

_Because he's all I ever knew of love_

For long minutes we stare at each other and I try to ignore the mark on his neck, where my teeth had settled as he'd shoved my jeans down, pushing them past my hips and down… I'd needed to taste him and, oh, he'd tasted just how he used to, all male and sex and nothing civilized.

I'm suddenly aware of the fact that all I'm wearing is a robe, and my mess of blonde hair, still wet from the shower, is stuck to my back. Strands of it are stuck across my face, but I find that I'm unable to reach up and clear them away… he left an hour ago, what had he done, gotten back to the mansion and then turned around?

He snorts and I flinch at the bitterness there, but am unable to look away from those damn eyes of his… always saw right through me, didn't they? Yeah, always… "You bitch…"

_What I need is a good defense_

'_Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal_

_And I need to be redeemed_

_To the one I've sinned against_

Yeah, that's correct… but, hey, once again, he always saw right through me… both the good and the bad, the sinner and the saint, and he always seemed to like how I could do both. How I could be playing with my stuffed cow collection one minute and fucking him in the back of the car the next.

"Why are you here?" Jesus is _that_ a stupid question! I know why he came back; the reason is making me ache harder, it's why there's suddenly a pulse there, a painful, liquid heat. It's the reason my hands are shaking. And, by the time he's in front of me, that exhausted in his gaze, a look I give him, I can hear my heartbeat beneath my skin, can feel it as a rhythmic droning.

He reaches out, fingertips touching a strand of my hair; he peels it away and I draw in sharply at the slight brush of skin to skin. "Are you so embarrassed that you washed me off already?"

I can't respond, I can't do anything but stand her and feel myself grow increasingly ready, and now… oh, god, I think I'm dying… I'm hazily aware of how his fingertips feel brushing the edges of the robe, parting it enough to chill my still moist skin. He's always taken my breath away and now is no different.

I'm breathing raggedly, erratically, my vision struggling to survive through the growing craving… his fingertip brushes the curve of my breast and, oh god… "Babe…" I hear the words and they remind me of the smoke from blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, the one he brought me after we married… they curl around me, rippling, but I don't try to reach out and grab them… what's the point?

"Babe… no one can know about this."

I stare at him, my vision suddenly very clear and the look there in that gaze… and I get, with ice cold clarity, what he's talking about… oh, god, oh, god, oh, god… "No… no one will know about this…"

And then… heat and force and the feel of air on my skin as he pushes my robe open and off and… the feel of the wall at my back… we're a frenzy, an explosion of need and hunger that finally breaks as we fight to get our skin together…

_Because he's all I ever knew of love_

_

* * *

AN: I hate my muse… filling my head with naughty Krystal/Adam and JR/Babe ideas… bad muse, bad, no biscuit… ah, who am I kidding? Here, take all the damn cookies you want. Just stop making all my characters swear like sailors, would you? I don't swear this much… ever!_

_The song is "Crminal" by Fiona Apple, andI don't know why I chose this song but I have this in a BtVS vid that isn't available anymore and was listening to it and, hey, got the idea for this angsty little fic. I don't know if it fits Babe to a T but it makes me think of how she should be thinking as an actual character. I don't know how this thing got so long!_

_Stinking gifted BtVS vidders, shoving naughty thoughts and rocking songs into my head and pressing the 'puree' button… damn… anyway, review, tell me what you thought of it, huh?_


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